Dullness of Dole
by imadoodlenoodle
Summary: Despite helping defeating Voldemort Ginny's come out of the war unemployed and having to live with three other people. When forced to join a training scheme Ginny thinks it's all about presentation skills and how to write a perfect CV. Having to learn how to navigate by the stars and matters of etiquette doesn't seem quite right - what exactly is going on with ALCOR?


**A/N:** This was written for the DG Forum's exchange challenge.

 **Chapter One**

 **XxX**

Here's the problem with the Wizarding World economy: it's tiny. The Wizarding World isn't big and every year at least fifty students graduate from Hogwarts and go looking for jobs; couple that with extremely long life spans and you've got a situation where there are too many people and not enough work to go around. Well, you could always get a job at the Ministry, I suppose, but the work is mindless and the pay is as bad as it gets. And, to be honest, I'm better than that – I'm too different to spend my life in cubicle drudgery.

"I'm sorry Ms Weasley, you're just too similar to all the other graduates out there." Doris looked up at me over her glasses and gave me a once over. "You have standard grades, with a strength in charms I see, and you've been commended on your duelling but, overall, you don't have any skills that stand out."

Doris's office was as bland as the woman herself; beige walls, blue carpet, and cheap wooden furniture. The only bit of individualism was a potted plant and a picture of a coral reef. I changed my mind about the Ministry…working in the Jobcentre would be worse. I notice Doris waiting for my response, I had drifted off while she was telling me how much help she couldn't be.

"I'm a brilliant dualist, excellent flier, and my DADA work was ranked in top of my class – how am I not standing out?" Because seriously, I don't mean to brag but I'm a strong witch and yes, fine, my grades aren't like Hermione's, but I've got my strong points.

Doris looked flustered at the outburst and shuffled the paperwork before replying. She took her time, choose her words carefully. "The problem with your class and the ones that have come before it is that your educations were disrupted and tainted with The War." The War – notice that capitalisation? No one refers to it as anything but 'The War'. "Your strengths were useful then-"

"Necessary," I cut her off sharply. I've flustered Doris again and I'd feel bad but somehow I can't. There's something about her apparent inefficiency that's rubbing me the wrong way.

She clears her throat and the feeling of discomfort is palpable. "The only place your skill set would suit would be with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but as you've made clear already you do not wish to go down that path." Doris looked tired and I could understand why; if I would just get over whatever it was she could send me to the DMLE and tick me off as a successful job seeker and let her get on with the next poor unemployed graduate.

"All in all, Ms Weasley, you don't want to work where you'd best fit, you don't want a ' _boring office job'_ but you don't really know what you would like to do. The only option left for you for is our third party compulsory volunteer program designed to give you work experience in a number of different professions."

I open my mouth to argue with her but, finally discovering a backbone, Doris shuts me down.

"If you refuse to interview for any of the positions we've discussed today and refuse the third party compulsory volunteer program then I'll have no choice but to suspend your benefits until you begin to cooperate with me." Flustered Doris was gone this Doris knew that she had me, there was no way I was going to lose that money, having it was the only thing stopping me from having to move back in with my parents.

I can't believe I had reached this stage though. Following Voldemort's defeat, the Ministry was surprisingly generous with its one off 'thank you' gifts to those of us who had a 'prominent role in the defeat or in the defence against Voldemort', and I had saved mine until after graduation to use as my deposit on my first flat. It was a gorgeous place; a spacious double bedroom, hardwood floors, and a kitchen – though rarely used – that never failed to make me wish I knew how to cook.

Bloody expensive though and after four months of unfruitful job searching I was forced to give it up and find somewhere cheaper. I now share a four bedroomed flat with faded carpets, mould in the _one_ bathroom we share, and a kitchen that makes me glad I don't know how to cook. Mum and Dad were fine with flat one, they understood the appeal . . . flat two? Not so much.

So no, I was not losing the one bit of independence I still had left . . . and Doris knew it.

"Fine," I said sighing and took the leaflet she passed my way. "ALCOR?"

"The organisation is called AL Corporation, they're known as ALCOR for short. You'll attend five seminars a week and will have ten hours of placement time. I don't know the exact details as they mix it up every season but they'll send you a welcome pack with everything you'll need." Ignoring me now, Doris started filling in paperwork, having me sign a few forms before sending me on my way. Not without a final warning though, of course. "Really, Ms Weasley, this is your last shot, if you don't know what you want to do after this you will be forced to take the first job that we find you; you can't wait for your dream job – life doesn't work like that – trust me."

Looking again at Doris's beige office, and the woman herself, I could quite easily see what would happen to me if I took her advice; a boring office job that would slowly drain me of all desire. "Of course, Doris, I understand."

I understood, but never said I would do it.

 **XxX**

After leaving the Jobcentre I wandered Diagon Alley for a bit, window shopping. Growing up I got used to window shopping, seeing stuff I wanted but couldn't have. I assumed things would be different when I grew up, but surprise! they weren't. Eventually I started on the familiar route back home, the quality of the shops diminishing as I drew closer. It wasn't that bad, just lots of '3 for 1 Galleon' shops selling almost expired food and cheap knockoffs probably made using elf labour. Hermione refused to shop at those sorts of places, of course, because the elves only earned minimum wage; I didn't mention that I frequented them often . . . when you get to the stage where you can only afford beans on toast for dinner the quality of the beans didn't really matter much.

I really missed meat. Even I wouldn't chance the meat from Bill's Odds-N-Bobs, no matter how desperate I was for some bacon.

At least I could go to Mum's for Sunday dinner where there would be multiple helpings and leftovers to take home. She probably knew that I wasn't doing so well but after the whole blow-up over Harry thing she wasn't going to push. I guess she finally realised how stubborn her children are.

I reached the building's entrance and didn't bother pulling out a key to unlock it, a hard push would do the same, and then climbed the stairs to the second floor. I guess that's the one redeeming feature: we don't live on the tenth floor.

As I reached the front door I could hear Maria and Marie arguing. Again. I caught snatches of the conversation, enough to realise they were arguing about Paul. Again.

Paul was our other housemate, Dan's, best friend and would come by almost every night to hang out with Dan. It came as a complete surprise to me then to discover both girls quite fancied him. Apparently with bright blue eyes, floppy blond hair, and a physique that didn't hide his weekly rugby practice, Dan was quite hot. Apparently. Completely unsurprisingly. As far as I was aware Dan was either oblivious to their advances or just seriously not interested and too polite to say.

I braced myself before pushing the door open and walked towards my room as quietly as possible, not willing to be dragged into the fray.

"Ginny!"

Of course with my luck that was a near impossibility.

"Ginny, wait up! Come out here." Partly in the door but still visible I weighed up my options. Ignoring the request and going straight into the room would make them angry with me for the next week but that mostly involved the silent treatment so kind of a plus. On the other hand I'd still hear all their shouting and Marie offered to hoover my room next time she did hers, an offer most likely withdrawn if I were in her bad books. Difficult.

In the end the desire to not deal with our antique and monstrous hoover won out and I shuffled into the living room.

"Hey guys, what's up?" It was a dangerous tactic going straight for the problem, more likely to lead to another heating up but I was tired and just wanted a nice peaceful bath before Paul got home and dominated the bathroom with his going out routine.

It seemed I had caught them at a lull as they didn't immediately spring into the fight but just stood there glaring at each other. I looked around the room for clues but nothing looked out of place. Two sagging sofas covered in the brightly coloured cushions to spruce them up, the wooden coffee table with half a leg missing and covered in various magazines covering health and beauty to sports, lamps dotted around the place for 'mood lighting' and because turning on the main light knocked the electric out for the rest of the flat . . . no, everything look normal, where it ought to be- oh. Crap.

Across the mantelpiece Marie had strung a row of fairy lights and on the top Maria had added a spread of her figurine collection, one of which was broken. Noticing Marie's slightly guilty look it was quite easy to realise this wasn't about Dan but the figurine, something Maria cared about a great deal more.

"I can't live here, Ginny, with her, anymore! Look what she did! These are my Mum's!" Maria looked truly upset and it was obvious she had been crying by the mascara tear tracks that ran down her cheeks leaving lines in her foundation. Marie didn't look that much better and it wasn't as if she'd break the figurine on purpose. She could be a bitch but she was always reasonable with it.

Regardless the situation was ridiculous. I fished my wand out of my bag and pointing it at the figurine intoned: " _Reparo_." The arm leaped off the mantelpiece where it had fallen and seamlessly reattached itself leaving the two girls staring in disbelief.

"We are _idiots_ ," Maria complained and I couldn't not agree. As soon as anything went slightly haywire Maria and Marie had a tendency to argue, whine, or cry before remembering they could use magic. At first I had found it humorous but now it was starting to get frustrating. Even though they had spent seven years at Hogwarts, the slightest ruffle would seemingly push that out the window and they'd act like Muggles. A problem with being Muggleborn I suppose.

With the crisis sorted I left the room with a hastily thrown over the shoulder good night and headed into my room. There wasn't anything waiting for me but my borrowed library book which I was keen to finish and return by tomorrow, otherwise the overdue fines would start kicking in.

The heating wasn't on as it was stupidly expensive so we used it sparingly, I pulled on another jumper and climbed in under the sheets for warmth, which made turning the pages difficult, but it was better than freezing.

Engrossed in the book, I didn't hear Maria and Marie make up or Dan come home. It was only after I finished the last page did I realise the time and discover Dan would most certainly be home and in the bathroom prepping for his evening; followed by Marie and then Maria. By the time they were done and gone the bathroom would be a mess and humid from the steam of three long showers. A relaxing bath was out then.

I considered going out with them but a quick check in my purse made my options go out tonight or eat for the week; food won out.

I headed into the kitchen to make a sandwich before settling down on the sofa to watch some TV . . . only to be interrupted by the girls and some of their friends who needed the room to get ready together, so forced out of the living room and back to my room I was left sitting on my bed eating a sandwich with no plans and nothing to do.

Trying to stave off boredom I cast my eyes around the room looking for something, _anything_ , to do but pulled up empty. All my books had been read multiple times and the ones from the library had all been read too recently to make a reread enjoyable. I was just about to throw myself out of the window when I caught sight of the leaflet Doris had given me earlier. I grabbed it out of my bag and was desperate enough to start reading it but was interrupted by Paul knocking on the door.

"Delivery, Ginny," his deep voice shouted before he wandered back to his room, his heavy footsteps audible on the wooden flooring of the hallway.

Surprised and a little excited I pulled open the door and picked up the package with hope. Maybe Mum had sent her care package early? Kicking the door shut I retreated with the package so no one would catch a whiff of the treats and want – demand – some.

I ripped open the package hopeful but ultimately disappointed. Honestly, with my luck you'd think I was used to bitter let downs but I still hoped. Which was probably why I was still out there trying to find a job and make the whole independence work instead of returning home.

The contents of the box spilled out in front of me and as I looked down at them and then around my room with its single bed, flat pack wardrobe, and threadbare carpet I realised that hope was diminishing every day and despite my disinterest I had no choice but to take part in the ALCOR programme with the chance to find a job.

If ALCOR didn't work out I'd return to Doris the next day and take any job she could get me. Boring beige may be my immediate future but even that was looking better than this present. I couldn't live like this any more.

 **XxX**

 **A/N:** Please leave a review! The next chapter will be up in a week...or sooner if people get demand-y.


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